


Comprehension

by Timpeni



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:16:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timpeni/pseuds/Timpeni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kanbei is not good at understanding people. Hanbei doesn't believe in it. Motonari would like to think he can. Takakage is trying too hard to do that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comprehension

People are extremely fragile.

That is something children should learn from young. Bones can snap under one’s feet. What are mere scratches can lead to festering, can lead to infection, can lead to tears and itching and more scratches being created before they become a slippery slope down to- at best- disfigurement.

It’s a very important lesson to learn. It keeps them safer.

Kanbei is a good kid. He learns this faster than most.

That doesn’t mean he always stays out of trouble, though. Kids will be kids, and pain is the best teacher. _Look before they leap,_ they nag. _Handle your footing,_ she says flatly. _Watch out,_ he reminds.

 _Run,_ she suddenly screams, and the fires eat up the trees and wooden structures that should’ve hold on for centuries more. _Take this and run._

He was also taught that the god Izanagi birthed deities with his tears. It’s a simple plan- if he could cry and cry, until a river deity flowed from his eyes, then they could make a whole river of tears. And then, the fire will be extinguished, and his mother would get out of the house in time. She would easily force the burning piece of wood off her then, without having her hands scar over even more.

(She doesn’t. No deity pours from his tears, and he has no more to spare.)

~*~

“I’m not a crybaby!”

“You’re not fooling anyone if you still have tears running from your eyes while saying that.”

The five-year-old is small, even for his age, and Noh has to bend over to wipe his tears. Of course, his first reaction is to shy away; the cloth is rough, for one, and he doesn’t need her sympathy. “I don’t want you to go.”

Hanbei’s words are (and will always be) blunt. She sighs, turning her sleeve inside-out so the softer fabric touches his face- it can’t dry up the crying even half as fast, though.

“You don’t need to worry about getting lost, Crybaby Hanbei. The compass I gave you will definitely help.” She’s well aware that’s not the reason he’s crying- but for a child, his skin isn’t very thick, and she can feel the warmth of his blood against the tears he’s choking back. He’s skinny- not like her, the fourteen-year-old daughter of the daimyo, with figure predicted to become only better.

He shakes again, and she can feel the bones of his face move, almost tracing her hand down to his neck. Hanbei is so _small,_ if she were to just put her hands around his throat…

And yet, he’s trusting her completely with intruding into his space. Children are the oddest.

“It’s not about getting lost!” Finally, he said it, though it’s rather unintelligible against his sobs. “I don’t want you to go, princess!”

What a cute title. How many people will call her by that after she’s gone from here? “But you’ll have to fight the Oda clan to do that. I’ll be married off to Nobunaga- I can’t come back so quickly.”

“Then I’ll fight the Oda clan.” It’s funny, how a child can say something with more certainty than any adult she’s seen. Of course, it could be because they don’t understand the full extent of what they’re saying.

(Hanbei is a smart kid, though. Even though he’s five, and barely even half her height- it’s an improbably stupid thought, but for some reason, she thinks he might know what he’s promising.)

“I’ll beat this Nobunaga and get you back, princess!”

“Now, you can’t do that when you’re still Crybaby Hanbei, can you? You can’t slaughter and fight if you can’t even stop crying.”

That makes him pause for a while. (She hides claws in her hands. If she willed it to- it’d be passed off as an accident, and all this child’s dreams, thoughts, imagination- all of it would end. What an exhilarating thought. What an exhilarating feeling. All the things racing through his head would never be understood- not that anyone could ever understand anyone else. What goes through everyone’s head is simply too possibly different.)

Finally, Hanbei speaks again, and breaks her train of thought (her claws made of knives remain hidden). “Then I’ll stop crying first! And I’ll beat them all with the compass you gave me. I swear, princess!”

“…I’m glad you care so much, Hanbei,” she almost purrs, ruffling his hair.

(To this day, he’ll never understand what went through Noh’s head. He does try to keep his word, though- he doesn’t cry in front of her, not in the battlefield, or anywhere else. Not even when the hacking in his throat wants to force out blood, not even mentioning tears.)

~*~

“…L… leaves!”

An interesting choice for a first word. Motonari isn’t complaining, though.

“Yes, they’re leaves.” The autumn wind blew again, and they flaked down like the color red itself was being cut out from the sky above them. Takakage almost instinctively gets on tip-toes.

Before he falls over unceremoniously, Motonari scoops him up in his hands- how long as it been, since he could support someone so effortlessly? “Here you go.”

The child doesn’t pluck off the leaves- rather, he just grins from ear to ear, batting them like fans. They still fall, and it seemed that somehow, Motonari’s ways were already getting to Takakage.

A lazy way to achieve your goal- batting the branches instead of wasting energy pulling the leaves. But the goal is achieved in the end, with the drying leaves falling to the ground as the wood shook, much faster than if they came off one by one through his hands.

Then, the child retracted his hands quite suddenly. Motonari’s face falls- and Takakage’s too, as his grin begins to twist into a frown, then came sounds of sniffing.

The branches can be sharp, and a child’s skin is soft. The red of the leaves is fresh and sharp. But the color of fresh blood on Takakage’s palm is, for some reason, much more clearer.

(This is the first and last time Takakage takes the lazy way out.)

~*~

The sea has a weird scent.

Takakage doesn’t mean that in a negative light. He actually quite likes it.

The only bad thing about the sea was that it had water, and if any of his father’s books touched water, they would definitely be ruined. Still, the sea breeze comes far into land, and helps to flip the pages for him.

The sea’s vastness would be a nice place to hide. Hide things he didn’t want other people to see. He could go there to cry, if it wasn’t so far away.

The books of kanji go on and on, but nothing is as expansive as that body of water. He’s only really seen it once, but he wants to go back.

If anything, just to jump inside and see how deep it really is.

“Papa?” He begins, making a rare request- his father barely lifts his head from the study. “Can I live near the sea one day?”

(His father gives him a navy.)

~*~

Inabayama Castle should not be such a strong force. Kanbei knows this.

There’s someone leading them. The fires- things he ordered to have _sparked_ and consume the castle- they’re being put out.

(The soldiers don’t fall back on tears.)

Nobunaga is very direct with that. _They must have a very effective leader… he must be snuffed out._ Kanbei isn’t too quick- he doesn’t like going into the front lines.

He can’t trust anyone to find the leader for him, though. In the end, he steps towards the castle that (from his memory) should’ve burned down.

There’s a flash of white amongst the soldiers.

Immediately, he recoils- their enemy clears through the crowd quickly, wielding a weapon… he’s never quite seen before. It swings everywhere almost effortlessly, and as he gathers energy, started swinging at him.

“Whoa! You look… cheery.”

…Strange words, to choose for your enemy. Stranger voice, too. Kanbei backs up a bit, and- has to look down to see the top of his head somewhat, partly because of how much he’s moving and partly because he barely reaches his chest, much less eye level.

Who is this, a kid? Obviously not, but… “So this is who I am matching wits with. But you are just a child.”

“Come now!” He speaks again, and Kanbei is almost _certain_ he’s faking it, because his weapon comes flying with grace no one expects a child to have. “Don’t disappoint me by judging me on my appearance.”

The retort that comes is almost instantaneous when faced with this hypocrisy. “I am merely doing as you yourself did.”

He does beat him in the end, though. The blades are sharp, and come close to his neck far too many times than Kanbei would’ve liked. His magic doesn’t fend the enemy strategist off- but for some reason, his opponent never seemed to aim for any vitals, just cut and bruise till Kanbei found himself at a disadvantage.

“Fall back.”

(For some reason, Kanbei thinks that word makes the enemy smile out of more than accomplishment.)

~*~

It’s a good thing he didn’t need to kill the guy. Hanbei wouldn’t have wanted that.

The smile slips off his fast pretty quickly, though- not completely. Forcing the blade to spin again, he took off into the air.

(Maybe one day, Hanbei would understand the reason behind Kanbei’s use of fire. Maybe one day, he’ll know how much Kanbei believed it would swallow up the castle in a flash, despite logic telling him it’ll take longer than that.)

Nobunaga. Oda forces. He- he doesn’t want to believe it, but following the most logical conclusion, and distrusting whatever people have already said about Nobunaga’s reputation… just one man, with a deadly wife, and a whole lot to prove.

Following logic, in the end, he would bring her here. Because one thing leads to another, and of _course_ you’d want to bring a volatile wife that seeks to kill you and casually make her destroy her home. Why? To assert your dominance? To make a point? For the hell of it? That’s moot point. There must be a reason Noh hasn’t killed him yet.

There’s always a reason for everything. They aren’t ever set to ‘cause and effect’, and regardless of the number of causes, the effects can be vast or narrow- the human mind and life does not run on numbers.

“If it isn’t little Hanbei…”

She taught him very well. Humans cannot ever truly understand other humans, as much as they share. Working on the logic of the illogical, and knowing that no matter what people say, they never do things for ‘no reason’. Be open to all possibilities. To whether she was here or not, to whether she was already dead.

“How long has it been since I was last in Mino...?” Her coy smile never really changed. He switches off the blades, falling to the ground, before sweeping the enemy soldiers nearby with an even swifter jerk of arm.

Not much different. He’d like to believe that. But he can never understand people.

Of course, with how their sides opposed, he slashed at her as quickly as possible. He knows how long the blades are, but he can’t trust that even Noh’s weapon won’t break in his hands. He must be careful.

“You've grown up a lot from the little crybaby you used to be.” Hanbei flinches as she suddenly _lunges_ at the compass, despite the rotating blade- and flips herself onto her arms fluidly by grabbing the top platform of the weapon, ignoring the gash on the arm she sustains.

Of course, he has to recover quickly. Swatting his hand, he forced himself into flight, trying to get Noh to topple. Instead, she pushes herself again, jumping off in a controlled manner and- barely- scratching the back of Hanbei’s neck as she lands perfectly on the floor.

(She entertains the thought of sudden death and silence again, still in awe she can just _do that_ to a former friend- but he won’t let her so near him. Possibly ever again. The things beneath his face don’t shiver with tears anymore, and Noh almost misses it.)

“Yes, I try to adopt a cool, disaffected demeanor these days. You like it?” The reply is instinctually snarky, but he still keeps intense concentration on the battle, trying his hardest to win and not slice Noh into pieces.

Not that he should trust her to act according to plan. But he does trust his own genius.

~*~

(For some reason, in different people’s heads, time works... well, differently. Reviling and looking back at history- that’s how it’s going to be.)

The First Battle of Gassan-Toda Castle (long before Inabayama, when Hanbei still cries and Kanbei quietly forgets how to-) was… something? Something. Eloquent words and literary rivers failed to flow from Motonari this time.

Right now, there is nothing smooth and easy to digest about this. It was a deadly battle, simple as that. Planting the (sparks) seeds of rebellion in Sue Harukata, cursing those who lived to die again.

What a cruel fate. History would need to record this- but how would he write it down? Right now, when the blood hasn’t yet been soaked by the soil? Or later, in hindsight, twisting the feelings into a ‘milestone overcome’?

One thing is for sure, though. Motonari _understands_ (how many times has that word popped out, repetition can make one sick-) that Harukata won’t back down. Things _will_ happen. What exactly? Impossible to say now.

History can help him understand how people think, and how it’ll affect the future. His hands are terribly dirtied with these predictions, but his eyes see clearly. Motonari just needs a little more time.

(Not that he has very much of it.)

~*~

People are so odd.

Okitsune was not a kind person. Not in a long shot. He cloaked himself in betrayal. He had legacies behind him decimated, and his own emotions with his own way of life.

Yet, as he sits as the head of the Kobayakawa clan, knowing his brother Motoharu now runs the clan Okitsune used to… slowly, the dead man’s individuality seemed to thin away, leaving behind a skeleton of the truth.

A dead dog lying on his grave, waiting for his master to return. A sad story, sure. But for that to be the first thing people think of when they recall memories of Okitsune?

The dog wasn’t even part of his individual conscious state. Takakage’s elbows inch a bit deeper into the wooden desk, his eyes staring forward (as everything simply fell into the Mouri clan’s hands). What a memory to be remembered by- a pet that most likely only took a fraction of your life, who did not mirror the anguish of defeat, the screams of betrayal, the words uttered in darkness as everything fell apart.

What would people remember of him, then?

His father is a historian. Takakage should be good at this. Predicting what people will say, perhaps recording his own endeavors, in a desperate bid not be lost in the sands of time.

But he doesn’t have time for self-indulgent things like that. What does it matter about how people see him after he’s already gone?

(It matters a lot. History teaches the present. Twisting the facts could twist the present. His books, filled with records of old- how many of those beloved words are blatant lies? How much has those blatant lies already twisted the present?)

“Lord Takakage, the navy is ready.”

Right. He lives in the present. He looks at the messenger- (would his messenger be remembered in history? Would he ever become a hero? Who would ever say his name if he were to die right now?)- and nods.

“I’ll be there.” People are so odd, but that’s what makes the challenge of understanding them a mite more appealing.

(Itsukushima has leaves of red everywhere. But instead of his father’s smiling face, the red is interjected with everyone else’s blood.)

~*~

Hanbei is two parts interesting, two parts annoying.

First part- he simply won’t leave him alone. Kanbei is interested in the reason why, since many seem to veer off his path. Hideyoshi is an odd fellow who cares for everyone, so understanding why he gives him a second glance is easy enough. Nene blatantly mothers anyone, and it seems that regardless of appearance, Kanbei is no exception.

Hanbei. Now he’s hard to understand. That part is also annoying, but ultimately intriguing. What are his motivations? For acting the way he does, for being so carefree?

Second part. He simply doesn’t seem to know his limits… or knows them, and chooses to acknowledge it through blatantly ignoring them.

The cheeky smile still stays on his face, when Kanbei stares down at him. “Rest. You are unwell.”

“You know, with a face like yours, people would think you’re a hypocrite.” Blunt as always, but never meaning any actual insult with his words. Kanbei has to admit, Hanbei has… a different talent, that doesn’t deal with strategies.

It’s easy to see. Even for someone like Kanbei, who only seeks to understand people for battles (or so he thinks), Hanbei is very obviously constantly hiding something. Even when he’s very good at it- which suggests it’s been going on for ages- prolonged exposure would let anyone pick up on it.

Coughs carefully hidden in between sentences. Switching away from his lofty clothes to betray his even smaller frame than expected. Hanbei is, without a doubt, terribly ill.

He can’t hide it forever. Before Kanbei can respond, something rises up in Hanbei’s throat- maybe it’s the gunpowder in the air, or the thick smell of blood on ground where grass should be growing- but the hacking makes the cause the least thing to be concerned about.

(The bones of his face doesn’t rattle with tears anymore, but that doesn’t mean they’re not still sore with movement.)

“…You should not be coming with us.”

“Well, Lord Kanbei, you know that even if you try to keep me back, Lord Hideyoshi will drag me out anyway! I just can’t catch a break.” The coughing seems to be gone in an instant, as he smiles, as if his throat wasn’t sore (and lined with blood). “Are you saying that because you care?”

“You are accountable for a large portion of the army. Should you fail to carry out your duties, it was be a blow against us in battle. Precautions should be taken.”

The account comes very matter-of-factly. That is true, after all. Hanbei looks like he’s going to stick his tongue out at that, and makes his horse gallop even faster.

“Well, then I’ll just put off dying for now!”

~*~

It was safe to yell that statement. At this point, Kanbei probably already knows, anyway.

Hanbei has to rush into the thick right away, of course- even if Kanbei ends up staring at him a mite too long after the battle after that. (Does he know? That he might _just_ be trying to achieve that he promised not to do? Dying on the battlefield… sounds a lot better than expiring after another sleepless night, choking on your own saliva and your chest just failing to fill up with air.

Hanbei doesn’t really believe he can really understand people. He does try, though, and entertains the thought a fair bit more than he should. Always making assumptions, laughing, questioning. Never really questioning when Kanbei seeks him out after he’s asleep for even more than usual, though.

Or when he forces him to drink tea that smells oddly of bitter herbs, a bit like Nene forcing him to eat more than he can.

He can’t assume it means what he thinks it means… but sometimes, some things can be left ambiguous.)

“Ah, the great military genius. You have been quite brilliant thus far.” Hanbei turns at the sound of that- there he is. About time, too.

(“Don’t make me drink tea! It burns my throat.” He pouts a bit.

“That is only because you drink it far too quickly,” Kanbei reasoned. It’s not like he wants to- his hands just tend to shake a bit too much when the cup is at his lips, and that pours more tea down his throat than it should.)

“Lord Motonari, it's time to surrender. Think of the lives you could save.”

“You make an attractive proposition, but I cannot accept.” His weapon shoots projectiles- and the gunpowder actually comes dangerously close to harming him more than the actual explosions might. Twirling compass, he slashed forward- and this is where history is decided.

(And changed.)

“Prepare yourself!” The voice is foreign, but that only means Hanbei reacts more quickly. A boy with a hair much fairer than those around him- and those flying pages probably bring more than paper cuts.

“So, you must be Lord Takakage!” His first instinct is to fly out of the way, letting the papers dance beneath him. “I predicted that you would ambush me at one point- interesting that you’d do it now.”

“You are Lord Hanbei, then.” Hanbei can deduce, but can’t trust, that Takakage is younger than himself- his movements are a bit less fluid, and he seems to be holding back just a bit. A father-son strategy, he can guess, as he’s slowly getting backed into a corner.

He’s not going to win, then… but he’s not going down now. “The one and only! You should meet Lord Kanbei too- maybe one day, we can see each other under more favorable circumstances.”

It’s still one hell of a fight. These two are no fools, not at all, and for the first time in a long time, Hanbei’s understanding of the flow of battle might just be getting challenged.

~*~

They can’t meet in person, of course. Hanbei would probably have to pay dearly if people figured out he was chatting with the enemy. A delivery method from foreign lands, how intriguing- Motonari was reminded in the letters that he needed to feed the pigeon before it flew off again, or it wouldn’t come back.

“A new letter?” Takakage’s head peeks into the room- he still smells faintly of the sea and sun, their traces almost becoming tangible in the folds of his clothes. “Lord Hanbei is certainly daring.”

Funny, because it isn’t just Hanbei, most likely. From his writing- Kanbei probably knows about it, just to a certain extent.

“…He may be feeding us with more information than he believes.” Obviously, Hanbei only talks about himself and Kanbei- but the words are message enough.

Takakage blinks a bit. “What do you mean, father?”

“His penmanship is less neater than before. Either he was in a hurry to send this… or he can no longer steady his grip,” Motonari starts (ripping the letter’s meaning into pieces, ignoring the call for friendship and going down the dirty path of betrayal). “And from the way the strokes jerk awkwardly, instead of lazily… the ink is too dark for this to have been written in a hurry. I believe Hanbei is ill.”

That definitely catches Takakage’s attention. He doesn’t speak, though- his father isn't finished. “Kozuki Castle… those under the Oda clan will definitely seek to reinforce it, should we launch an attack. With Hanbei ill, this might be our best chance.”

(No more letters come. Hanbei thinks that Motonari forgot to feed the pigeon.)

~*~

This is… almost unfair.

His eyes are barely even open when Takakage notices him- Hanbei, losing any imposing figure he might’ve never had, stumbling around blindly. He’s not outright dysfunctional- though, by a strategist’s standards, he might as well be dead.

“Hanbei! What are you doing here?”

His father said to prepare for Hanbei either arriving or not coming at all. Truth be told, he expected the latter- why would Hanbei rush uselessly into battle when he’s ill?

(He doesn’t understand. He wants to, but he doesn’t understand just how much Hanbei himself understands his ailment.)

“Uh... you’re talking to me?” He doesn’t even notice that the enemy called him straight by his name, raising that compass with much less energy than before. “Ah, if it isn’t Lord Takakage… you’re right. I can’t fight.”

(How funny, that words never uttered out loud can already be blatant claims simply because of implications. When did he say Hanbei couldn’t fight?)

“Your physical condition is still…” There’s no good ending to that sentence. ‘Hey, we guessed you were sick because of your letter’? ‘Sorry you’re so ill’? ‘You might just die here’?

Hanbei doesn’t seem to mind, though (as much as having eyes glazed over lifeless and almost tipping over by the wind’s blasts count as ‘doesn't seem to mind’). Instead, his compass starts spinning again- this time, he’s dragged up by it, not using it to fly.

“…I’m not going to fight you, Hanbei.”

“Ahhh, that’s a shame. I’m not dead yet, you know!”

And he comes barreling down with blades aimed at Takakage’s face.

~*~

This was not a good thing.

This was the exact opposite of a good thing.

He is perfectly aware of why Hanbei is in the battlefield, now- he understands that Hanbei wishes to die a warrior, for one. (“Hanbei, the strategist who died valiantly on the battlefield! It sounds a lot better then ‘Hanbei, the strategist who fell ill and withered away’. Make sure you record down the former, Kanbei!”)

Fate and time is a cruel thing- something very obvious, but still deserving to be reiterated. Right when he begins to understand Hanbei, he almost melts away in his hands.

Still, Hanbei should know, especially since he’s been exchanging all those letters- Takakage would not let him die there. He’d beat him up, sure, but there’s no way in hell that Kanbei can see Takakage finishing an already dying man off.

Hanbei’s a rather cynical kid, all things considered. Much more paranoid than Kanbei, in a sense- he always questions what’s going on in other people’s heads, and never relies completely on his own impressions simply because of the volatility of the human nature.

(“Yaaawn… again, Kanbei? We just had a meeting! Let me take a nap, at least.

“We are to work hard if we want to realize peace. Indulging in such frequent naps will only hinder our progress.”

“Hey, going into battle without well-rested troops is a recipe for disaster, too! …But fine. I better get a nice, long sleep later, though.”)

If Takakage isn’t going to finish him off… Hanbei probably already has a plan for that, too. Kanbei doesn’t need to save him- it’ll only extend his life for a short while, anyway. Not even for the battle. They’ve already lost.

“…I’m sorry, Lord Kanbei…” He barely struggles out the words, and the person they’re addressed to can just hear them over the sounds of battle. He misses whatever Hanbei says next- firing his magic, he burns and shoves his way through the crowd.

(“You’ve gotten weaker.”

“Waaah, you’re so blunt, Lord Kanbei!”

“I am merely as straightforward as you are.”

“But… well, you are right. People don’t say you match wits with a genius strategist like me for nothing!”)

Takakage notices him fairly quickly. Kanbei steps in the way- he’s the opponent now.

Hanbei struggles on his feet, but gets the message and flicks his arm like a noodle, forcing his compass to drag him out of harm’s way.

(“For each real battle, I run mock battles in my head ten thousand times, killing millions. So I know, there has to be a better way.”

“Do not foolishly object. This is the most efficient method.”

“What about all the casualties?”

“They are a necessary sacrifice.”

“When _I_ die, will you call me a ‘necessary sacrifice’, too?”)

~*~

(“…Such inconsequential sentiments are only harmful to us.”)

So, why is Kanbei still by his bedside? There has to be a reason.

There’s- Hanbei just barely registers movement and flashes of moonlight, filtering through the blooming cherry blossom trees. How ironic, that’d he would perish right when they reach their peak in bloom. He’d love to nap under them.

Kanbei barely moves- much less speaks- so Hanbei can… almost forget he’s there. Still hanging onto the conscious realm, though. (He’s not gonna get rid of him that easily.)

“…Hideyoshi’s era…” He barely breathes that out, once the thought comes to his head- it’s getting really groggy, he can’t even move his hands- “His era… I want to see it.”

Kanbei shifts a bit at the sudden words. “…Does that not mean the end of Nobunaga’s era? You want to see it?”

Kanbei- Kanbei, he’s going to _laugh._ “I’m dying now… how can I even catch a glimpse of it?” With even less words and time to spare now, his words as subtle as a sledgehammer. The world begins to melt, like a blur, like snow- slurring, blurring into one- with just tunnel vision on the man to his left.

“…Hanbei.” Does Kanbei want to say something? He… can’t assume Kanbei does. No… he can, can’t he?

He does want to say something… but he won’t, because Kanbei bites back on so many words while Hanbei lets too many spill out. Maybe it’s because he smiles too much, and they rush out the corners of his mouth.

He’s probably saying too many words now. Hanbei is forcing his lips to smile, after all.

“Nobunaga’s era… will eventually come to an end. Hideyoshi’s world, where everyone can live in happiness… I want to see it.” The sentence ends of something of a playful tone, voice pitching as if he was just waking up. (Except he doubts he’ll wake up after this.) The desire voiced yet again sounds almost infantile, like a child reaching for a dream found wanting.

(Like a son believing his tears can save his mother.)

“I’ll have to leave you alone now… Lord Kanbei.” There. That’s what he needed to say. Hanbei’s not done yet, though. He- (barely, numbly, shooting commands into seemingly unused nerves like a newborn with unfamiliar nerves-) tries to lift his left arm up, trying to… grab him? Touch his hand? Just… reach for him?

(There is a reason for every action. Hanbei can’t find a reason for this one.)

It’s funny, how the stiff body of a dying man can be compared- to the fearful, small child, just born and with too many possibilities laid ahead for them. Hanbei knows there isn’t much… time left.

A few more words… he needs to say something. Say what? Say…

“But… I’m sure someone else out there will… understand… you…”

(“I know everything about Kanbei.”

‘Know everything’ is vastly different from ‘understanding’, though. Maybe- it’s because his thoughts are a mess, his throat has only so little words to spare…

…For someone who lived his whole life knowing people are an impossible enigma, his last words are said with some sort of certainty. If Noh was there, she’d compare it to a bold claim made by a five-year-old, still prone to crying but wishing to save her.)

~*~

“Well, Motonari. Can you look me in the eye? There's no way you can understand me. There are questions you wish to ask of me, are there not?”

The surrender of Yamanaka Shikanosuke would obviously not exactly be a pretty affair. Motonari is sure of that much.

“I've never thought that I could understand you, nor do I wish to. However, I've studied history and I can imagine what someone like you would say. So there's no point in questioning you.” Understanding people… simple words, but really, it’s easier to say things than to do them. The workings of history shape the understanding of today.

Motonari wants to think he can understand people well enough.

“Please wait, Father. I must question him. Why did you choose to act in such a way that brought terror to the people?”

His son Motoharu speaks after him. (His third son, Takakage, simply stood silent. He was the only other who knew about the letter- and Motonari heard he fought off Hanbei himself.

Motonari’s hands are dirtied. He’s perfectly fine with staining them even more. But what he’s done now is absolutely unacceptable- dirty the hands of his son.)

Shikanosuke begins to speak again, glaring right at Motonari. “Because that is the only way for those inferior in strength to fight back against the people who wield the power of the state.”

“Even if it involves those who are weak and innocent, who have never caused so much trouble to others?” Motonari’s answer is almost instinctual. That’s exactly it, though- it’s more of an answer than an actual query.

“Don't make me laugh with your fake righteousness. In your minds, all you know is that the weak should just be content with being ruled with those who wield the power of the state.”

(Motonari, a weaker daimyo. The Amago forces, at his doorstep.)

“The Mouri who destroyed the Amago clan, their own masters, are evil! The Mouri who increased their strength through dishonorable methods and indulged in their own profits are evil! The Mouri who destroyed the Amago with a cowardly scheme are evil!

(According to history…)

 **“** For the righteous sake of returning the Amago clan to how it should be, I will defeat this evil. The evil has no right to criticize the sole method that is open to me!”

(According to history, Motonari will be portrayed as a cunning strategist. When in reality, he’s nothing but evil, isn’t he?)

“I've learnt from studying history. There is no absolute good or evil in politics. The only thing that exists is 'the better choice'.”

“There is no mistaking the fact that I am evil.” (Takakage winced.) “I have no intentions of involving many others into something as foolish as war to prove something so foolish.”

(Motonari almost gives Takakage a glance. That wouldn’t have been a good idea, and decides against it. He’s already involved the boy more than he should have.) “All I'm doing is, just barely, continuing to pick the better choice. Take him away.”

(Even if he doesn’t look, for some reason, Takakage can feel a million pairs of eyes burning into his back.)

~*~

…So. Takakage probably isn’t going to live to see the day where someone else he stabs in the gut literally gets up and walks away.

Putting it that way makes it sound like he didn’t stab Kanbei deep enough, not that he actually didn’t care.

It was stunning, to say the least.

“Father?” (When was he a little child, again? When did he stop calling him ‘Papa’?) “May I look at those letters?”

Motonari pauses for a moment, but he doesn’t turn back to face Takakage. Instead, he rifles through the letters. “You mustn’t do all the work all the time, Takamoto.”

…Pause.

(His thoughts kind of stop there, at the same time as Motonari.)

“Father, it’s me, Takakage.”

That makes Motonari turn around. His normal placid calm is removed, for just a moment. “Huh… sorry about that, Takakage. I haven’t been getting enough sleep. Think nothing of it.”

(Takakage will do the exact opposite of thinking nothing.)

Motonari does hand him the correct letters, now- the ones that doomed their ‘friend’. Could he even be called a friend? In turbulent times like these…

(“Hey, this is war! No hard feelings, okay?”)

“Thank you.” Takakage does smile again, though. He almost didn’t notice that it slipped off his face completely. “Please get more sleep, then, father.”

(He’ll never understand, then? Never understand how much burden and evil his father soldiers on with? Never understand what willed him to call his third son by a dead man’s name?)

~*~

Hanbei’s funeral is something of a dog and pony show.

Hideyoshi is an enigma; he both cares, and he doesn’t. Kanbei doesn’t think he’ll ever understand him, and his machinations. Does he love his wife? Does he think of Hanbei as a weapon or a person? Is he truly the ‘better person’ or the ‘lesser of the two evils’?

There is a lot of wine, though, and a plentiful amount of food. Hanbei would’ve enjoyed it himself.

…Kanbei doesn’t entertain the thought of giving Hanbei a separate, Christian funeral in secret for too long. As negative as their views of the afterlife are- that’s why there was so much wine, after all- it wasn’t worth the risk.

(Deity will never flow from tears. The tales of Shinto legends are nothing but lies- still, the looming gloom of Yomi is a form of peace no one should ever have.)

He doesn’t drink quite enough to get drunk, though. (He can almost hear Hanbei sniping at him, even though the dead man never drank too much himself.)

He learns the food was all prepared by Nene. She cries from the start to the end over the loss of one of her ‘sons’.

(Kanbei remains loyal to Nene from the start to the end until the horns begin to howl on the grounds of Sekigahara.)

~*~

Even when they die, people leave a space behind. A space that should’ve been filled by them.

~*~

“Takamoto?”

The surroundings are a blur. Motonari tries to reach for the figure standing over him- to tell the truth, before time runs out. (This is what dying feels like. It’s really when you die do you truly come alive.)

“We’ve reached a truce with the Toyotomi clan, father. They will not attack us, as long as I work as their vassal.”

Good. That’s… that’s good. When did the Toyotomi…? He must be forgetting more than he thought. (Takakage breathes a bit too loudly, begging desperately in his head for his father to recognize him.) “Ah… I see. It was… the best move in this situation?”

(He’s gracefully calm, even near death.) “I’m sure you worked with your brothers… understand that it won’t be easy, for any of you.”

(Takakage knows. He knows too well.)

“Takamoto… I was not a good father to you, in many ways. You’ll have to bear my sins… according to history, my legacy will not treat you kindly.”

“I’m alright with that, father.” Motonari doesn’t seem completely convinced, but relaxes a bit at that. (It looks like Takakage is still not that good at pretending to be Takamoto.)

Raising out his hand, ~~Takakage~~ Takamoto grabs it firmly- does he mean it, then? Is that what Motonari is supposed to understand? “My hand is dirtied with the deeds of the past… being an Toyotomi vassal will only expose you to more. You have to learn to do what you must…”

“I understand that.” (Does he? Oh god, does he?)

“Good… the responsibility of the Mouri clan belongs to all of you. It’s a shame I can’t devote myself into writing history any longer… I’m a foolish old man with one more request to make, however.”

This is new. Taka(kage) hasn’t heard that before. “I’ll hear it.”

“Do your best to make sure your younger brother Takakage gets to live near the sea one day, will you? I never did succeed in doing that myself, and I made a promise…”

~*~

His father dies around a week later. But with how little he remembers- reducing his mind to a fraction of what it was before- he might as well have died long before.

The silence in the Mouri study is as loud as the screeching of gulls above pounding surf. Yet another constant reminder of failure, another notch etched in the willow whip of history. Motonari used history as a mirror- but in the end, all it reflected of his absence was the grime of sins smeared onto its silvered surface- bloody stains covering up the true kindness of his acts.

Or so he hopes. He desperately believes they do exist, a burning fire once devoted only to stoking his drive for self-improvement- a fire he finds now searing through the few strings left tying his soul together.

(What a terrible failure.)

Takakage tries his best to be a filial son. (If only he had done more in the years before- perhaps their father could have been saved.) Motoharu was too stricken- and unfortunately, too inexperienced- to handle the logistics of organizing their father’s funeral. As a sign of respect, the Toyotomi sent a retainer to convey their condolences- Kanbei arrived with a few other companions in tow, but they exchanged few words.

The whole event passed in a blur. He hazily recalls sorting out event details and sitting through the ceremonies, but something had thrown a cover over those recollections, smothering them beneath a sea of his own sorrow.

It was the first and last time others ever saw him cry.

After the last mourners had been seen off and the castle courtyard cleared, he is finally left alone. Everyone else in the castle has retired for the night, and no one in their right minds would dare disturb him now.

Something drives him to leave the family keep. A small figure, threading through the sleeping streets, robes whipped unkempt by the sharp night breeze.

He ends up seated on a blasted rock by the beach. The sea roars all around him, stinging waves lashing against the shore. A few scrape against his legs, leaving bitter cold in their wake.

Even the ocean knows, and punishes.

(Her harshness shows him no mercy – at least, not until the very end.)

~*~

He does remember the strategist. A man with sun-bleached hair, though nothing as much as Nagamasa. Kanbei has only seen him twice- once when attacking, one when defending.

Takakage is rather brilliant, himself. (Nothing quite like the style of Hanbei’s blatant alternatives and wildly accurate predictions, though. And he had the gall to say he couldn’t understand people?)

“You are the de facto head of the Mouri clan now.” It’s a simple way to start a conversation.

“How do you intend to handle this new duty?”

(It’s not a bad idea to ask that, even if Takakage might not like it. If he can’t even handle a question like that, the Mouri clan will fall to pieces.)

Takakage’s expression doesn’t falter. “For the sake of my father’s dream of being a historian, I will make sure to take the stage and make history myself. People have begun to call me a hermit, after all… I believe I’m becoming more like my father, as well.”

(“Don't be such a hermit, Lord Kanbei! _Some_ sunlight is good for you. Ahhh… take a nap on the roof with me!”)

“I would like to thank you for not giving chase after Hideyoshi’s first retreat. If you had, the path to peace would not be as clear as now.” The water ripples beneath them, but everything is still moving- moving serenely, without a care.

(Did Hanbei really not have a care in the world…?) “Ah, you don’t need to thank me. If anything, I should thank you, Lord Kanbei- in the time we’ve worked together, you’ve all but become the bridge between the Mouri clan and Hideyoshi.” A smile. (Is he supposed to understand that he helped, then?

Kanbei’s been the sole strategist for too long. Takakage’s presence doesn’t just bring himself. He can almost hear Hanbei getting surprised over Kanbei being the diplomat, of all people.)

“It’s quite peaceful here. If I could use my book as a pillow, I might just take a nap.”

…Hmph. Kanbei’s quite sure someone’s being intentional about this resemblance by now.

He doesn’t even notice when his lips curl up around the side- Takakage’s sudden surprised expression informs him as much. “Is something wrong?”

(“If you got more sleep, maybe then, you won’t have such a gloomy face!”)

“Nothing. I was only reminiscing about someone who used to speak the same words.”

(Somehow, they both understood who it was.)

~*~

(“Come on, Lord Kanbei, smile! You need to practice, I don’t want a dreary face like yours to be the last thing I see!”

“…How are you sure that my face will be the last thing you see?”

“Well, you’re always close-by in battles, and if I get injured, you’ll be the first one to know. And only you’re dense enough to stay near a dying man without fear of catching his disease!”

“You still speak just as bluntly.”

“But it’s true. You don’t want to say it, Lord Kanbei, but you really are a kind person!”

“Kindness has nothing to do with this. Someone has to look after you while you’re ill. And if they occur, deaths need to be reported immediately.”

“Waaah, don’t speak of such moody things now! Anyway, you could just get any soldier to look after me. I’ve figured out, you’re actually worried. Nothing can get past me, you know! I am a genius.”

“No, you’re absurd.”)

~*~

(“Oof!”

“Ah- careful, Takakage!”

“Ow… I didn’t see the book there… Oh, what’s this one?”

“This is… oh, these are historical records by me. Your father is part of history, you know?”

“Really? Can you fire arrows and live in China?”

“That’s not how history works. That’s history from before us… instead, I must try to make history myself. It’s never exactly the same, but always follows patterns.

“Can I read it, papa?”

“…Some other time, perhaps.”

“Why not now?”

“There are some parts of history you’ll need to know only when you grow older. I can’t show you all of it yet.”

“…Okay, fine. Promise me I can read it when I grow older, then!”

“Alright, I promise, Takakage.”)

~*~

He believes that the sea is merciful.

Despite all those stormy nights where waves smashed rocks to pieces and screamed in salty winds at the shoreline- the ocean was, by nature, benevolent. She (she? yes, she) was as real to him as a person would be; with her many changing faces and occasional moods. A person he had grown up with, one whose presence could calm his fears and soothe his exhaustion.

The sea was his mother. (In place of the one he had never known.)

As a child, she held many mysteries to be explored. Reefs teeming with life, fishes of every imaginable shape and color, all woven into the great tapestry of nature. As he matured and the world slowly began to crumble, her surf brought him peace and encouragement to go on. Despite her occasional moods, she always held a certain kindness for him- soft breezes bearing the faint tang of salt, warm waters which calmed his nerves and bleached his hair into a soft golden brown. The scent of the sea and sun eventually permeated his entire being, becoming a tangible part of his identity.

And now… she would bring him a final rest.

It began only a fortnight weeks ago. He had brushed it off as mere malaise at first, perhaps a side effect of a few days’ missed sleep- but the ailment worsened rapidly. By the next week, he had begun coughing up blood.

A disease, just like Hanbei’s, then. But not something long-term (or what he assumed was long-term, going by what little Kanbei has told him). This was…

(The divines have finally finished judging him, then. A punishment meted out by the gods, for the myriads of mistakes that his life had chalked up upon the sinners’ board.

Maybe a punishment for targeting Hanbei when he was down. For letting the people around him die.)

There wasn’t enough time left. Hideaki was a filial son, but Takakage’s intuition told him that the youth’s rashness would prove to be his undoing.

(Takakage prayed to Awanagi every night. Hopefully, the lord of the seas will protect his son - just as the sea had watched over him.)

Days slipped through his fingers like fine sand…

…and now he had run out of them. It was all over.

(Now that he has a foot in the grave, does he understand how it feels like to have life robbed from him so quickly? Is this enough?)

_I’m going sailing._

He scribbles these words upon a piece of paper – it had become painful to write. His script was shaky now, a far cry from the fluid grace he used to command –

(“And from the way the strokes jerk awkwardly, instead of lazily… the ink is too dark for this to have been written in a hurry. I believe Hanbei is ill.”)

The servants will find it eventually. Plus, they were probably expecting it, given his physical condition.

He sets off in a small boat. It was old, with only one sail and oar – but it didn’t really matter, now. The winds were kind enough to carry him in the right direction, out to sea – there were currently no merchant vessels plying this part of the straits. Only the smooth calm of the waves kept him company.

And the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting rich swathes of color upon the sky.

(He had forgotten how beautiful sunsets were.)

The sea breeze begins to tone down, ending in a soft breeze that left the boat motionless. The ocean surrounded him on all sides; its waters glimmering a deep inky blue. Small pinpricks of light began appearing upon its surface – reflections of the stars winking into existence above.

Something fluttered weakly against his ankles – he bent down and picks it up. A reddish leaf, freshly fallen. Perhaps it had drifted into the boat the day before.

A sudden coughing fit wrecks his thin frame with tremors. His eyes begin to sting with the resultant tears, but he forces them down with pure force of will. Raising one hand to his lips, he finds that they came away red.

He eases himself into the water. It takes a few minutes to scale the side of the boat, but the descent was swift enough. The sea was cold, but not to the point of discomfort. It was calming to just float upon its surface for a while…

… but he was no longer the youth he once was. Adulthood had sapped away any remnant of innocence he still held.

Exhaling slowly, he purged all air from his lungs. A little blood came out as well, but it diffused quickly into the water. The sea itself closes above him, shutting out the world outside.

It was all over, now. Only the vast blue ocean remains – an endless expanse of water, unchanging and indifferent to the petty conflicts that raged upon its shores.

Takakage’s father often told him that he was born on a boat.

The sea had brought him life… and now it would bring him his final sleep.

_It’s all over._

~*~

Takakage is almost never late.

By now, he should be outside, doing ridiculous things like searching on rooftops or checking the top of trees for the other strategist. Instead, he remains seated in the room… the sun dipping down even lower.

(Obviously, someone’s idea of a joke. This whole thing, all the parallels, is someone’s idea of a joke.)

He should be worried. Instead, there’s just a numb feeling of recognition- oh, Takakage is late. He’s late. Has been late for hours. Where is he? He should send a messenger if he can’t arrive in time. If anything, even if he wasn’t in the state to discuss strategies (rumors going around that he was ill-), they needed to decide.

Well, _he_ needed to. Kanbei is already sure on joining the Eastern Army.

Change was needed for the peace this land was just inching towards. A stronger power, not hanging onto the threads of past greatness. Even though said past greatness was real just moments ago.

(Lives are robbed away far too quickly. All around him.)

“Lord Kanbei.”

When that Hideaki boy arrived instead of Takakage, Kanbei realized he’s grown used enough to a situation like that to understand instantly.

(Takakage left behind the letters written by Hanbei for him. He burned them. A decisive battle was afoot- being lost in sentiments long passed is something only a fool would do.)

~*~

People drop in, but they’re never replaced. Human beings are not water, filtering in and out. They could have never crossed paths in the first place. Or they could have never left.

Instead of never meeting, meeting and leaving ends up carving a hole in others.

~*~

The holes made for them could’ve never existed in the first place. But once you’ve gotten a taste of them, it feels odd to go without it.

Whether everything is predestined or events are changed by your actions (and regrets) is moot point. Once they’re gone, that’s it.

~*~

Then again, when making friendships, that should always be taken into account.

After all, people are extremely fragile.

That is something even children should learn from young.

~*~

“Mr. Hermit!”

Kanbei holds his crystal ball out of the girl’s reach. No, she is not getting to steal it again.

“You shouldn’t call me Mr. Hermit, you know,” he says, casually putting the weapon on the top shelf- it’s not like it was _dangerous,_ seeing only he could use it… but letting children throw a murder weapon for hundreds around is a bit unnerving. “Simply because I read and sleep more than you do does not make me a hermit.”

“But it does. Come out and play with us if you’re not a hermit, then!”

Her pouting doesn’t deter him. He’s had enough experience with pouts to just roll his eyes at them.

(An ill boy who trained to save a deadly princess.)

“You should be glad you have the freedom to play in the first place.” Still, he doesn’t bat her away or do anything of that sort when she starts tugging on his sleeve. She’s barely able to reach his arm, with how much he’s lifting it up, but still hangs out and tries in vain to pull him with her.

…He doesn’t have to wave her off, but can’t bend over forever, either. So instead, he leans down more and picks her up completely off the ground.

(A historian who had too much part in the history he was trying to record.)

“Wheee! Higher!”

Nah. Casually opening the door with his feet, he puts her on the ground again. More pouting.

“Can’t you go find someone else to bother?” Not that he minds, too much- they’re endearing. But he doesn’t exactly appreciate the fact that they mob his house and just run in when he opens the door.

She shakes her head. “But you’re the only one who understands us, Mr. Hermit! All the other adults just shut us outside.”

…He can’t blame them.

(A son trying to fulfill duties he wasn’t made for.)

“That’s false. I do not understand you- I am not good at understanding people.”

“You _are._ You look scary, but you’re the only nice one! Even if you're not good at understanding people, Mr. Hermit, you’re really obvious.”

“You’re absurd.”

(A man who learnt how to understand and recalled how to smile.) “Now get going. The sun will be setting soon.”

“…Okay.”

He does give her a smile, which convinces her to leave with less of a protest than she usually does.

~*~

“She’s soooo cute! I’m surprised you didn’t scare her away, Lord Kanbei! It’s too bad we have to go now…”

~*~

“Yes, she is persistent and straightforward… that will serve her well. I doubt you’ll need to worry about her.”

~*~

“Ahah… I’m sure she’ll understand. We all did in the end, after all.

It’s a shame we won’t be able to see Okuni’s first performance to the masses- but it is rude to waste everyone else’s time. So, let’s go visit everyone, Lord Kanb- no… Mr. Hermit.”

**Author's Note:**

> eonflamewing.tumblr.com wrote Motonari's funeral and Takakage's death scene because unfortunately I don't do this 'Japanese' thing very well
> 
> plus i casually skew Motonari and Takakage's characterization into a million pieces
> 
> runs off with translations from zeest.dreamwidth.org thank u friend bless your face
> 
> btw yes i know Takakage's childhood name is Tokujumaru but details, details


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